Bottoms Up
by JKRichards
Summary: Posing as CDC officers, Sam and Dean investigate the mysterious deaths surrounding a bed and breakfast in Colorado. One of them may become a victim in the process
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sam Winchester sat cross-legged on his bed and reread the internet article as he repositioned his laptop in front of him in the poorly-lit motel room he shared with his brother: "_Ten people have died of a mysterious illness, the cause of which is currently unknown. According to the Centers for Disease Control, the only apparent common connection among the deceased was a vacation in Holyoke, Colorado. Three of them had stayed at a bed and breakfast called Castle Freeman Inn. The other seven had stayed at several different locations in the area at the same time as the others."_

"Dean? I think I may have a job for us." Sam looked up from his computer to find his older brother sprawled on his back on his motel bed clicking intently on the remote as the channels flashed hypnotically across the TV screen. Dean's gaze didn't leave the screen as he reacted to his brother's statement.

"Whatta ya got Sam?"

Sam shook his head and half smiled, half grimaced at his brother.

"Dude, if you can manage to tear yourself away from the fascinating programming there, I found something interesting. Not sure if it's supernatural, but it may be worth checking out."

Dean sighed and dropped the remote unceremoniously. He sat up on the edge of the bed, giving Sam his full attention.

"Go."

"Well, there have been some unexplained deaths in Holyoke, Colorado. A bed and breakfast there may be a common thread. It's not that far from here, Dean. We should check it out."

"What makes you think there's something supernatural involved?"

"Just a gut reaction – and the fact that no one can explain how these people died. They found each of them ensanguinated, but no evidence of foul-play, no flesh-eating bacteria. Autopsies were inconclusive. They just bled out."

"Have you researched the bed and breakfast?"

"Yeah, what little I could find, nothing strange about it. A couple named Judith and Kendall Conroy moved into the small castle a couple of years ago and converted it into an inn. I haven't found anything to suggest problems, natural or otherwise. In fact, they have a very good reputation and are well-known for their evening socials."

"Evening socials, huh? Sounds like a hot time, right up there with high tea."

"Ya know, Dean we could stand a little less excitement for a change."

"Whatever, dude. I'm just saying it would be nice if there were some hot barmaids or something going on at this castle, cuz if I'm going o drive my baby another 200 miles, I want to make it worth my while."

"Right. Because sitting in a smelly motel flipping channels on a Saturday night is the stuff memories are made of."

Dean glared at his brother for reminding him how bored he was. "Okay, we'll head out to Holyoke first thing in the morning. Ya know, Sam, I could be at a bar drinking ice cold beer, hustling pool and hooking up with a hot waitress as we speak. I just thought you could use some company."

"You're such a martyr, Dean."

……..

The next afternoon, Dean pulled the Impala into the small parking area reserved for guests at the Castle Freeman Inn. The grounds were immaculate, and the castle looked like something out of a fairy tale. Built in 1886, the building had a lava stone exterior, and a 4-story tower w/stained glass windows. Dean had to admit to himself with a twinge of excitement that it was just the type of place a ghost would feel right at home haunting. He and Sam retrieved their fake IDs from the glove box. This time posing as CDC officers, Dean Whitman and Sam Waters, the two checked in for an extended stay, at the reduced government rate, of course.

Judith Conroy was a slight woman with long graying hair pulled into a ponytail, She reminded Sam of an old hippie, complete with a peasant blouse, long, cotton skirt and Birkenstocks. She had a calm presence about her, and welcomed the "officers" into the sitting area. She told the boys that she had already given a statement to the CDC, and Dean was quick to explain that this was a follow-up visit based on some new information they had received. Of course, they weren't at liberty to share that new information just yet.

"My husband and I purchased this old castle a couple of years ago and converted it into a bed and breakfast. We just opened a few months ago."

Dean shared a quick glance with his brother._ That was exactly when the deaths began to occur._ "Do you two have a lot of experience as innkeepers?" Dean asked, suspicion creeping further into his psyche as he watched the woman. She seemed to grow uncomfortable with the questioning.

"No, uh, not really. I had worked at a few hotels and my husband managed some bars. But, uh, he had to leave that line of work."

"Why is that?" Sam asked, taking notes, trying to look official.

"Well, I don't normally share this information, but seeing as how you are with the CDC, you may find out anyway. My husband is an alcoholic, so working in a bar wasn't the best environment for him."

Dean snorted. "I guess not, he'd be drinking all the profits."

Judith narrowed her eyes and shot an accusatory look towards Dean, who managed to look contrite. "Have you ever had an addiction, Mr. Whitman?"

Dean pursed his lips, appearing to ponder the question. "I was hooked on phonics once," he deadpanned. Sam glared at his brother and turned his attention back to the woman, who was frowning at Dean.

"Mrs. Conroy, do you recall any strange behavior from any of the guests while they were staying here?"

"Not really. All of them were very nice people but all very different. In fact, about the only thing they seemed to have in common was a love of socializing. Every evening they'd gather in the billiard room and play pool or debate over a glass of scotch or wine. They had some lively discussions, but nothing out of hand. We even had a lot of guests from some of the other hotels stop by to join us. We advertise our social hour in the area vacation guide."

"So, you didn't notice anything odd?"

"No. Not until they began to get sick and die, of course. But none of them died here, so I'm not sure there's really a connection. Although I'll admit that it's odd. That's why we shut down for a few days to inspect everything. You know, look for mold, and test the food and drinks for contamination. We found nothing. And since Kendall and I live here all the time and we haven't gotten sick, we went ahead and reopened. The health inspector even came out and said everything checked out fine."

"Hmm. Okay then, you don't mind if we take a look around as well? We do need to file a report so we can close this case."

"Of course, we want to make sure this is a safe place for our guests, after all. And, once you're done, you are welcome to join us for dinner this evening."

"Thank you, Mrs. Conroy. We wouldn't miss it."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"I'm telling you Sam, something feels off about this place," Dean said in a low voice as the two brothers descended the dark, rear stairwell leading to the castle's wine cellar. He directed the beam of his flashlight toward the large wooden door, shuddering slightly as he briefly wondered if they were heading into an actual dungeon. Judith had given them free reign to inspect the entire castle, but for some reason it didn't reassure him.

Sam followed closely behind his brother and fished the EMF meter out of his jacket pocket. "Yeah, my spidey senses are tingling too bro', but we're going to need to find out more about the victims and what they were doing before they died. Right now, we've got nothing to go on. This place may not even be the key to the deaths. We need to know more history."

"Unless the answer just jumps out at us," Dean said hopefully as he tugged on the heavy door, which opened with a loud groan. The boys' eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as they entered the cavernous room. The walls were lined with wine and whiskey barrels.

"Wow, I'd say this is an alcoholic's nirvana." Dean rapped his knuckles on one of the barrels. "I think these are all full, Sam."

The younger Winchester directed his flashlight beam along the rows of barrels, awestruck at the sheer volume. "There's got to be thousands of them down here."

A sound behind them alerted the brothers just in time for Dean to find a gun barrel aimed directly at his head. An angry looking older man held the rifle tightly with both hands, his index finger caressing the trigger. As a conditioned response, Sam immediately pulled his gun from the waistband of his trousers and aimed it at the man.

Dean cleared his throat and laughed nervously. "Huh, looks like we have a standoff here."

The man grabbed Dean by the neck and slammed him roughly against a wine barrel, scraping the side of his face against the old wood. "No we don't." He addressed Sam. "You drop that gun boy, or your friend here is going down."

Sam hesitated. He had to keep Dean safe, but he didn't know if he could trust the guy to back off. "Look, mister, we have permission to be down here. Mrs. Conroy gave us permission. We're with the Centers for Disease Control."

The man pressed the rifle barrel firmly into Dean's kidney, eliciting a hiss of pain from the young hunter. "Well, I'm MISTER Conroy and you don't have my permission. The CDC has already been here. Everything checked out fine. Who the hell are you two? You aren't CDC agents; that's for damn sure. They don't usually carry guns and they don't go sneaking around in wine cellars. Now, I warned you. Drop the gun."

Sam slowly lowered his handgun, exchanging a worried look with his brother. Dean attempted to lift his head to say something, but Mr. Conroy slammed him back against the vat. Dean winced as his head hit the metal band on the barrel, opening a gash on his forehead. Sam moved forward to help his brother, but was quickly stopped when Conroy aimed the gun at him. Sam raised his hands and directed his most sincere, puppy-dog eyes towards the man.

"Please, Mr. Conroy, we have identification, I can prove we are from the CDC. We're investigating new information in the case."

"Let's see it."

Carefully pocketing the EMF meter, which he hadn't had a chance to switch on, Sam pulled his fake ID out of his wallet and handed it to the man, who inspected it, scrutinizing Sam and returning the card to him. Chagrined, he lowered the rifle and released Dean. Sam immediately moved to his brother's side, holding his shoulders and inspecting the bleeding wound on his forehead. Dean, as usual batted Sam's hand away, but accepted the support his brother offered as he felt the room tilt suddenly. He closed his eyes, willing the dizziness to pass. Sam held his shoulders more firmly, concern etched on his face as he watched his brother.

"Dean? You okay?"

Sam watched as his older brother pressed his lips together tightly, biting back pain.

"Yeah, just give me a minute."

"Look boys, I'm sorry. I've had some strange things happen down here in the cellar recently, some break-ins and vandalism. I thought you . . . "

Dean held up his hand. "S'okay Mr. Conroy. We should have shown you our IDs right away."

Sam frowned, still angry at the rough treatment his brother received, but didn't push it. He was just glad the guy stood down. He adopted his "official" voice and addressed the older man.

"Look, Mr. Conroy. We are going to need to interview you. This is the first we've heard of break-ins and vandalism. That could be significant. We also will need to know more about this castle and this wine cellar, in particular," Sam told the man, still supporting his brother, whose head wound was bleeding profusely. "But first we need to get my, uh, Mr. Whitman's wound cleaned up."

"Please, call me Kendall, Mr. Waters. I apologize again. Let's get him upstairs, Judith has a first aid kit. Head wounds bleed a lot, but it doesn't look too deep."

Dean reached out and patted the man on the shoulder. "No worries, Kendall, I've had worse." Sam inwardly grimaced, knowing just how true that was. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam stood nearby and watched as Judith cleaned the blood from his brother's face and applied a bandage to the gash on his forehead. Dean sat stoically as the woman dabbed at the wound. She reached inside the first aid kit on the counter and produced an adequate-sized bandage. She didn't speak, but was obviously distressed by the incident. Both brothers noticed how her hands shook slightly and her brow furrowed deeply as she worked.

The well-appointed lobby was empty and eerily quiet. There were no other guests at the castle, no doubt because the news had leaked out about the deaths. Sam scanned his brother again, making sure the head wound was the extent of his injuries. He noticed that some of the blood had dripped onto the collar of what Dean referred to as his "damn monkey suit". Both brothers had donned a jacket and tie to look more official. _Apparently not official enough_ Sam thought, frowning as he watched his brother wince slightly. Judith backed off from her ministrations.

"I'm really sorry about this, boys." She looked around and lowered her voice. "Kendall is very moody. He's been like this for awhile. I don't know if he's depressed or what, but he can be downright violent and paranoid at times."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, both wondering where Kendall had gone. Soon after helping Dean to the lobby, he had bolted from the room. Sam had been too focused on his brother to notice much else. But now that Judith was talking, he realized they now had an opportunity to find out more about the couple.

"Judith, was your husband like this before you moved into this castle?"

The older woman looked uncomfortable and averted her eyes from Sam. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Sam decided to adopt his CDC persona again, hoping to remind the woman they were there on an official investigation. "Mrs. Conroy, if there is something here at the inn that could be creating a toxic environment, we need to know. Sometimes chemical imbalances can occur in the brain from environmental anomalies. This could be connected in some way to these deaths. We need to check out every possible angle."

Dean looked at his brother with amusement. _Way to go college boy. _

Still looking uncomfortable, but acquiescing, Judith answered in a low voice. "I – I just don't like talking about Kendall like this. He's always been such a wonderful husband and business partner. But after we moved in here, he began to change. It was very subtle at first, but now he's like two different people and I never know from hour to hour which Kendall I'm going to be facing." She looked at both boys, tears welling in her eyes.

Sam looked sympathetic. "Has he seen a doctor?"

Judith shook her head and frowned. "Oh, no I can't even suggest it. He'd take my head off if I said that he wasn't acting normal. He physically attacked me once, but he doesn't remember doing it. He says I'm the crazy one."

"Okay, don't worry, Judith," Sam touched her arm, trying to reassure the woman. "We'll be asking him some questions then, and we will get to the bottom of this. If there is something here causing all of this, we'll find it, and hopefully help Kendall in the process."

The woman smiled slightly and packed up the first aid kit, just as Kendall came bounding into the room carrying an unopened fifth of scotch. He approached Dean, who sat on the stool behind the check-in counter, fingering his bandage to make sure it was secure. Sam instantly became alert and positioned himself slightly in front of his brother as the unpredictable man neared.

"I imagine you have a whopper of a headache, son. Again, I'm sorry. Do you like scotch?" Kendall was downright jovial and lifted the bottle towards the boys, an expectant expression on his ruddy face.

Slightly surprised, Dean lifted his eyebrows and then gave the man a crooked smile. "Is the Pope Catholic? Hey, I'd put in on my cereal if I could." Sam looked at his brother and smirked slightly, not surprised by Dean's ability to go with this odd behavior.

"Well then, you'll like this. It is the best stuff I've ever drank, and that's saying something, too, cuz I've drank a lot of scotch in my day." Kendall enthused, presenting the bottle to Dean, who took it and thanked him. He then went and grabbed some glasses from the buffet. Sam shot Dean a questioning look and Dean shrugged.

"Let's open her up then. It'll help your headache."

"I don't know Kendall," Sam intervened. "It's a little early, and we are still officially on duty, you know."

"Oh come on, now. Mr. Whitman here has been injured on the job. I'd say he's done for the day, wouldn't you?"

Dean was puzzled. The guy had just clocked him a good one and now he wanted to have drinks? However, Dean wasn't one to pass up a good scotch, either. Besides, maybe by sharing some drinks, they could discover more details about the castle and Kendall's problem.

"It's okay, Sam. It may help get rid of my headache. Besides, I'm curious now. I have to taste this stuff and see if it's as good as Kendall here claims."

Sam snorted. "You know Dean, I think alcohol only works on hangover headaches, not those caused by a possible concussion."

Kendall held up his hand. "Stop right there boy, whiskey is known as the "water of life" and has been used for medicinal purposes for hundreds of years. Aqua vitae and all that. The monks were master distillers. In fact, this whiskey right here was made in 1850 in the UK. They shipped these barrels over for the owners of this castle. They shipped both whiskey and port wine. It is unbelievable. If there wasn't so much down in that cellar, I'd be hording it and selling it on E-Bay. I still may. I may have a fortune sitting down there."

"Wow, looks like you hit the mother lode then. It's mighty nice of you to share this," Dean told the man, although he was feeling more than a little skeptical about the age and source of the brew. He didn't want to question too much yet, though because they still needed Kendall's cooperation.

Sam, however, had no such reservations. "Why wasn't this discovered a long time ago? I mean, the previous owners must have known about it. Those barrels can't all still be full."

Kendall's smile vanished and he turned his attention to Sam. "The previous owners did know about it. They were descendents of the master distiller. They didn't touch the barrels because they believed there was a curse of some kind associated with them. Their great-grandfather suffered a violent death during the transport from Europe and several of the workman who brought them to the castle were killed when some of the barrels fell on them. The family freaked out and was going to dump them all, but a local businessman urged them to keep the inventory intact because it would be worth a lot of money if they could sell them to brokers on the Barbary Coast in California."

"So what happened, then? Obviously it wasn't sold."

"They tried, several times, but every time a buyer traveled over to Holyoke, they died before the transaction could be completed."

Dean looked at Sam. "That's odd. Did they all die the same way?"

"Nope. All freak accidents. But it upset the family so much they decided to seal up the cellar. When we purchased the inn, they informed us about everything and didn't add the collection to the purchase price. I was stoked, because I figured they were a bunch of superstitious ninnies. So far, I'd say that's all they were. I opened up the cellar and no curse has come down on my head."

"What about the break-ins and vandalism you mentioned?" Sam pressed.

"Hell, that's life in the 21st century, kid. No crazy curse. There's always crime happening somewhere." Kendall set the glasses on the counter and took the bottle from Dean. "Now, that's enough of the history course, boys. Like a true Scot, I am inviting you to share a drink with me."

"Well, I don't think Sam here wants to go against company policy, but as you pointed out, I'm off the clock, so I'll join you in that drink," Dean told Kendall, holding his glass while the older man poured the amber liquid.

Kendall raised his glass to Dean's. "Bottom's up," he proclaimed and then he and Dean both drank their shots down in one swallow.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry this is so short, I didn't have time to do more, but wanted to give you something until I can write a longer chapter this weekend. Thanks for the encouraging reviews!_

Chapter 4

Dean had downed the first shot before Sam had a chance to stop him. Sam watched incredulously as his brother moved the glass towards Kendall, indicating he was ready for a refill.

"That is some damn fine whiskey, Kendall. You were right. Smooth!" Dean smiled brightly as he looked at his obviously pissed younger brother. Sam held his tongue, but glared at Dean and shook his head. Kendall was oblivious to the exchange, happily pouring another shot for both Dean and himself.

"I told you, best stuff I ever drank, pure heaven in a bottle." the innkeeper declared as he raised his glass in salute and the pair downed a second shot.

Sam was seething. _What in the hell does Dean think he's doing? Shit!_

"Look Dean, I'm going up to the room," Sam's words were clipped, his irritation evident. "I think you better take it easy with that stuff. You _will_ be back on duty in the morning, you know."

"Yes, mother. Don't wait up." Dean shoved his glass toward Kendall again, who shook his head in amusement at Sam.

"Lighten up, Mr. Waters. You are one seriously uptight dude. Must've been exposed to one too many germs on the job." Kendall laughed loudly, causing Dean to wince.

"Easy there, Kendall, the head, remember?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Kendall, do you mind if I speak to Mr. Whitman for a moment? It's official business. And, I need to discuss this before he drinks himself into oblivion." _Literally. _Sam watched in disgust as Dean drank the next glass down.

The innkeeper frowned and stood up abruptly, the stool tipping over behind him. He stepped towards Sam, who tensed, but relaxed and smiled weakly when the older man simply slapped him on the shoulder. "Of course! You two kids chat it up and I'll go get another bottle."

Once Kendall was out of earshot, Sam turned on his brother. "What in the hell do you think you're doing, Dean? You _do_ know this alcohol could be tainted with some freaky supernatural curse, right?"

"Yeah Sam, that's why I'm the one drinking it and you are going to go up to the room like a good little CDC agent."

"What?" Sam looked at Dean like his brother had grown a second head, but Dean simply ignored him and, with a slight slur in his voice, attempted to explain himself.

"I figure the best way to discover what's really going on is to sample the goods and see if anything happens."

"Dean, that has to be _the_ stupidest thing you've ever said, or done. People are dying and you volunteer to be a lab rat?"

"Look, Sam, Mr. Conroy's been drinking this, probably daily, judging by his enthusiasm for the stuff, which by the way _is_ awesome," Dean chuckled slightly. "Anyway, he's not dead, or even physically ill that I can tell, although he might be a few bricks short of a full load. That leads me to believe that this so-called curse is bogus and something else caused those deaths."

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

"God, Dean, we don't know what caused those deaths. That's my whole point. It could be this alcohol, it could be a spirit."

"Technically, alcohol _is_ a spirit, Sammy." Dean shot a crooked and slightly drunken smile at his brother. "Get it? Spirits, alcohol . . ."

"Yeah, Dean I get it. You must have hit your head harder than I thought. You're as certifiable as Kendall!"

"Just go up to the room, man. I want to see if I can get more information out of the old guy. I'll be up later."

"I am not leaving you alone down here, Dean."

"Alright then, but if you stay down here, don't you dare turn into a buzz kill. I want to enjoy this if it's gonna kill me." Dean poured the remaining contents of the bottle into his glass and raised it towards Sam before he drank it down.

"That's not funny, Dean."

…………………

Judith Conroy watched the exchange between the young men from the second floor landing atop the staircase, nervously fingering the rubbed-hardwood banister. She frowned, unable to make out their conversation. She wondered where her husband had gone, and if this evening would end as badly as the last time Kendall had "entertained" the guests.


	5. Chapter 5

_I know I said I'd have a LONG chapter LAST weekend, but real life seems to get in the way a lot lately. But here's a short chapter for you._

Chapter 5

Judith descended the staircase and joined the Winchester brothers in the lobby. Dean grinned sloppily as the older woman approached.

"I thought you two were going to go on up to your room. I see Kendall has you sampling some of our famous scotch," Judith looked pointedly at Dean. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, Mr. Whitman."

Sam frowned and looked at his brother, who was beginning to sway atop the bar stool on which he was perched.

"Well, aside from the obvious reasons why it's a bad idea, what do you mean by that?" Sam directed his question at Judith as he stepped closer to Dean, hoping to prevent his brother from landing headfirst on the hardwood floor should he topple over.

"The head injury, of course. We don't know how bad it is, and I don't believe alcohol is recommended in a case like this." She put her hand inside her pocket and produced two large white pills. "I managed to find some ibuprofen upstairs. He should take these. They will probably ease the inevitable hangover as well."

Sam nodded and took the tablets from Judith. He took Dean's glass and filled it with water from the bar faucet and presented them to his brother. "Here, Dean. Take these; they'll help your head feel better." Dean shook his head and attempted to push Sam's hand away.

"My head feels awesome; 'member what I said about a buzz kill? You're pushin' it Sasquatch. Where's Kendall?" Dean spun around clumsily, looking for the innkeeper. "He said he was gonna bring back s'more whiskey." Dean's voice had taken on a sing-song drawl as the alcohol in his system kicked into high gear. His brother's uncharacteristic lack of control was unnerving Sam.

The younger Winchester took a deep breath. Deciding he'd had enough, he put his hand firmly on Dean's shoulder and presented the pills once again. "Listen Dean, you take these and I won't say another word. You and Kendall can stay here all night and drink yourselves into a stupor if that's what you want. Just take the damn painkillers."

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Bitchy much? Jeez Sam, okay. Give 'em here."

Judith visibly relaxed when she saw Dean take the pills, but then looked towards the door Kendall had used and frowned slightly. "I wonder what's keeping that husband of mine."

Sam looked at Judith blankly, adequately suppressing his growing irritation with the Conroys _and_ his besotted brother. He hoped Kendall didn't show up anytime soon. Even though he knew Dean wanted to use the time to interrogate the guy, his brother was reacting to the drinks a little more quickly than usual, and Sam wasn't sure he'd remember anything after the first couple of drinks, anyway.

"Do you think there's a problem, Judith?" Sam wasn't eager to leave Dean alone in his condition, but he was curious about the innkeeper and why the guy's wife was so jittery. "Would you like me to go see if I can find him?"

Before Judith could answer, Dean clumsily stood up, knocking the stool over in the process. He grabbed his brother's arm. "Saaamm. Don't go wandering around this freaky ass castle by yourself, man."

Surprised by the outburst from his normally laid back sibling, Sam winced slightly as Dean's hand squeezed tightly around his bicep. "Jeez, Dean, enough with the kung-fu grip already. I just want to see if Kendall plans on returning, or if we should call it a night."

Dean eased his grip, looking slightly embarrassed and confused. "S-sorry there Francis, I forgot how delicate you are."

Exasperated, Sam wasn't sure what he should do next. Clearly, Dean was not going to cooperate. Stubborn under normal circumstances, a drunken Dean Winchester made a mule look compliant by comparison. He felt Judith touch his arm.

"Listen, son, I'll go see if Kendall's okay. The alcohol doesn't really effect him too badly because he's built up a good tolerance, but still, he could have fallen down those rickety cellar stairs. He did once before, but luckily he didn't hurt himself. Why don't you take Mr. Whitman up to his room?"

Sam smiled weakly at the older woman, who was looking at him expectantly. Sam nodded once and looked at his brother, who was beginning to sway on his feet. Suddenly, all the color drained from Dean's face and his eyes lost focus. He reached out for his brother.

"Sammy?"

Sam was at Dean's side immediately as he saw that his sibling was in trouble. He grabbed him by the shoulders to support him, but quickly realized that Dean was going down.

_Shit!_ "Dean!" Sam caught him and slowly lowered him down to the floor. He felt for a pulse at his neck. He found one, although more rapid than Sam liked.

"Oh no, Mr. Whitman! He didn't drink _that_ much did he?" Judith inquired, staring wide-eyed at her guests on the floor.

Sam was angry and scared. "No, Mrs. Conroy. I've seen my bro-, uh Dean drink way more alcohol in a short time and still drink everyone else under the table." _Dammit, Dean, why did you drink that shit? _"Has anyone else reacted to the scotch like this?"

Judith frowned absently. "I-I'm not really sure. I know some of the guests got a little carried away from time to time, but if anyone passed out, I never knew about it. I-I'm sure Kendall would have said something."

Sam's eyes didn't leave his brother, even as he addressed the woman. "I'm going to carry him up to the room. He looks pretty sick. If you find Mr. Conroy will you tell him I'd like to talk to him, please?"

Judith nodded, appearing shell-shocked by the incident. She watched Sam lift the unconscious young man gently over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and disappear up the stairs. She turned and headed down the hallway leading to the cellar. She was pretty sure what she would find there.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It really helps keep me on track._

Chapter 6

"I know what you're going to say, Judith." Kendall said tiredly. He didn't even look up as his wife entered the dank, dimly lit cellar where he sat hunched on a low stool near a large whiskey barrel. He held a nearly empty bottle of scotch in one hand and a tattered book in the other. Judith stood over him and he could feel the anger radiating from her.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Kendall? Those boys are from the CDC, for god's sake!"

"God has nothing to do with this, and you know it, Judith," the innkeeper waved the book weakly towards his wife, who began pacing, her anger at her husband palpable. He understood her anger, he was angry himself. "This isn't going to stop, you know. It's getting a firmer hold on me by the day. I can't control it."

"But you gave that boy some of the scotch! _The_ scotch! He has a taste for it now, there's no going back."

Kendall sighed and lowered his head. "He didn't drink that much."

"You know as well as I do that it isn't about the quantity. That liquid has properties that we can't even begin to understand. I can only hope that the pills I gave him will counteract some of the effects."

Kendall's head snapped up. "You gave him those damn pills?" He looked at his wife incredulously.

"I had to do something! Dr. Roshi is the one who told us where to find that book, you know. He was right about that and what he described," Judith stopped, remembering her encounter with the healer. She closed her eyes as if to block the vivid images his visit had left with her . . .

Just days after the deaths of their guests, an unusual stranger had arrived at the Castle Freeman Inn. He claimed to know how they had died and how it was all connected to the "evil" surrounding the castle. Dr Lohiri Roshi, a handsome, middle-aged, dark skinned man, described himself as a descendent of a long line of healers from Africa. He explained that the sangomas, like himself, are herbalists skilled in traditional medicine - very powerful medicine used to create harmony among the living and the dead. At first, Judith had thought the man was crazy. But, as she listened to him speak and describe his theory, she began to tremble, and she felt the bile rise in her throat. What he described was horrific. If it were true, she feared for her husband's life.

"_Mrs. Conroy, I can help you. I know why your guests have been dying." His dark, soulful eyes beseeched Judith, and she caught herself staring at him, nearly mesmerized by the dark pools._

"_H-how could you possibly know that?" A lance of fear sliced through her, "unless, you had something to do with it."_

_The "doctor" laughed._

"_No, Mrs. Conroy. As I explained, I am trained as a traditional healer. I've continued the legacy that my family held in Africa through countless generations. I know why it's happening and I know how to stop it. I'm offering my services."_

_Judith's fear was not assuaged. She suspected that the man was at best a fraud, and at worst, a murderous psychopath. Still, she managed to keep a brave face, and question him._

"_Why would you do that? I can't see how any of this is your business."_

"_I need to fulfill my calling. I have been directed here. There are angry spirits here because of the work of one of my ancestors. He used his power to create discord and pain. Your husband inadvertently unleashed it and I am here to reverse the damage before more people die."_

He told Judith where they would find a journal from the ship that had transported the whiskey and wine barrels from Europe. It would explain how and why the evil was surrounding the castle. He had made some medicine in his apothecary and suggested that both she and her husband take it to ward off attacks, and in Kendall's case, possibly reverse the effects he had been suffering. Although skeptical, Judith accepted the pills, "just in case" the doctor was right. Neither she nor Kendall took them, however, especially after they read the journal, which was exactly where Dr. Roshi said it would be – in the wine cellar, tucked away in a small compartment behind the first whiskey barrel.

Kendall's angry voice interrupted her recollections.

"You and I both read that journal, woman! So you _know_ what could be in those pills. _You_ haven't taken any have you?"

She shook her head in disgust. "No, of course not. But this is working out perfectly for us. Mr. Whitman is our guinea pig. We'll just wait to see what happens to him. I hope it works. If it does, then you can take the pills, too. I don't want to have to do what we did to the last guests. The last thing we need is another death and more investigators nosing around and ruining business."

………

Sam lowered his brother as gently as possible onto his bed. Thankfully, they had been given adjoining rooms, so he had all of their supplies in close proximity; although he had no idea what to do for Dean other than wait it out. He thought briefly about calling 9-1-1 or hauling his brother down to the car and to a hospital. But he dismissed it when he realized he couldn't explain Dean's condition unless he attributed it to the whiskey, which he was sure the ER doc would just dismiss and tell him to sleep it off. Sam was pretty sure that whatever happened to Dean was connected to the deaths, and traditional medicine was not going to help him. The younger Winchester felt helpless as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched his unconscious sibling. The stillness was the most unsettling, and Sam watched carefully to reassure himself that Dean was still breathing. The head wound was no longer bleeding, which was one less thing for Sam to worry about. But his brother's coloring was off, and, as he touched his hand to Dean's forehead, discovered a fever had developed. _Come on, Dean will you open those eyes and talk to me? What in the hell is happening?_

Sam replayed the evening's events over in his mind and he knew he was missing something. Something was off about the Conroys._ Where's Kendall, anyway? Judith seems nervous, way more nervous than when we arrived in the afternoon. In fact, she was really laid back at first. I guess her husband attacking us unnerved her. Still . . ._

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by a low moan from his brother. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound and hovered over Dean expectantly.

"Dean?" He prodded softly. "Open your eyes, man. Say something."

His brother's green eyes fluttered open, attempting to focus. Pain registered in his eyes as he looked up at Sam's worried face.

"Dean?" Sam repeated when his brother closed his eyes tightly, his face contorted in pain. Dean groaned and attempted to speak, although his voice was weak and gravelly.

"Sammy? Wha-what the? What hit me?"

The younger man looked at his brother sympathetically and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"I wish I knew, man. I was hoping you could tell me. Do you have any idea what made you pass out like that?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You mean besides the scotch?"

"Uh, yeah, dude. You didn't drink that much."

"Sure as hell feels like I did. Although now that you mention it, I remember seeing strange things, like orbs and really intense colors. I heard a voice I didn't recognize. I remember feeling peaceful, though. Then I woke up here, with you."

"How do you feel? I think you have a fever." Sam placed the back of his hand on his brother's forehead.

Dean rolled his eyes and regretted it instantly as a sharp pain hit the top of his head. "Shit! That hurts."

Sam brought his hand back immediately. "What? What is it?"

"Killer headache, that's all."

Sam winced at Dean's choice of words. "Well, I can see if Judith has any more Ibuprofen."

Dean nodded slightly and attempted to lift his head. He groaned again and dropped his head back on the pillow.

Sam frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Why am I still wearing this damn monkey suit?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It had been a little over an hour since Sam had gently removed his brother's so-called "monkey suit" and replaced it with some well-worn sweat pants and a Metallica t-shirt. He decided to change into more casual clothes himself when Dean had told him rather pointedly that he looked like a "fucking undertaker". Dean had used up all of his energy trying to change his own clothes and reluctantly allowed Sam to help. The younger Winchester knew it wasn't easy for his brother to accept help, especially with such a basic chore. So, coupled with Dean's raging headache, and a possible poisoning, he didn't blame his brother for being surly.

Sam hesitated to leave Dean's side, but he needed to find some answers from Judith and Kendall. He was worried. His brother was obviously more than intoxicated. Dean's fever wasn't rising, but it was persistent, and his color hadn't improved. What scared Sam more than anything, though, was seeing his brother in pain. Dean couldn't open his eyes for long because the light, which Sam had dimmed, intensified his headache. When he did open his eyes, his face contorted in pain. Sam knew that his older brother must be hurting badly, because even when they had faced any number of other life-threatening situations, his brother always shook it off and hid his pain, both the physical and emotional kind. Dean had already cheated death twice, and Sam felt that same anguish return as he thought back to a time when he nearly lost his brother and how achingly familiar it felt as he stood over his brother's bed again.

_Dean absently clicked the remote control. His eyes remained fixed on the small TV screen as his brother entered the room and stood at the foot of his hospital bed. _

"_Do you ever actually watch daytime TV? It's terrible."_

_Sam sighed heavily, knowing that Dean was delaying the inevitable conversation about his health._

"_I talked to your doctor."_

_Dean ignored Sam's statement. "That fabric softener teddy bear – ooh, I'm going to hunt that little bitch down."_

"_Dean." Sam's soft plea finally elicited a response from the older Winchester._

"_Yeah." He turned off the TV and tossed the remote on the bed. "All right," he said finally looking up at Sam. "Well, it looks like you're going to leave town without me."_

"_What are you talking about? I'm not going to leave you here." Sam's eyes were moist with unshed tears._

"_Hey, you better take care of that car, or I swear, I'll haunt your ass."_

"_I don't think that's funny."_

"_Ah come on, it's a little funny."_

_On the verge of tears, Sam didn't say anything for a moment and looked away._

"_Look Sammy, what can I say, man? It's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story."_

"_Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options."_

"_What options? Burial or cremation?'_

_Sam looked at his brother with disgust and shook his head._

"_I know it's not easy, I'm going to die, and you can't stop it."_

_Sam's face took on a veil of determination and he nodded his head. "Watch me."_

The younger Winchester sat on the edge of the bed and watched his brother sleep. Dean looked very young and vulnerable, and Sam had an overwhelming urge to protect him. To do that, he had to find out what had happened. Reluctantly, he stood up from the bedside and took in a calming breath, his face etched with concern.

"Hey Dean, I need to find out what's going on around here. I'm not going to be gone for long. I'll get you something more for the pain if I can." Sam spoke softly and watched his brother a few seconds longer and then left to find Judith.

Dean's eyes fluttered open briefly as the door closed.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was weak, his throat dry. With his vision still blurred, Dean could not make out the details of his surroundings. He couldn't clearly see the apparition which appeared near his bed; Dean could only see large orbs of lights dance across his limited vision. The wavering translucent figure looked down at the young hunter and smiled slightly. Dean could hear the unfamiliar voice in his mind again.

_You will help me destroy the umThakati. I have been terrorized all these years by my ancestor. Soon, you will be the one to set me free._

…….

Judith and Kendall were still down in the cellar, trying to decide how they would deal with the young CDC agents, when they heard it. Rhythmic drumming was coming from somewhere near the cellar, deep within the castle. They had heard it before, on the night of the last deaths. They both sat stock-still as they listened, eyes wide and breath held as they waited. Judith saw the latch on the heavy wooden door move. Gasping, she grabbed her husband's wrist, whispering fiercely as her grip tightened.

"He's here again! Kendall, what can we do?"

Sam opened the heavy cellar door and carefully peered inside to find the Conroys staring his way, looking like deer caught in headlights.

"Mr. and Mrs. Conroy? What's going on here? You two seem a little spooked."

Judith sighed in relief. "Oh, young man, you just scared us. We didn't expect anyone else to come down here."

Sam scrutinized the couple, noticing that Kendall was uncharacteristically quiet. He frowned slightly and gave the couple a rueful smile. "Listen, I'm just going to be honest here. I think you two are hiding something. Dean is really sick, so if you know what's wrong with him, you need to tell me now. Believe me, if you've gotten yourselves into some kind of trouble, we can help."

"What?" Judith shook her head and spoke quickly. "No, we-we aren't in any trouble, Mr. Waters. And I don't know why your friend is sick, but it has nothing to do with us."

Kendall cleared his throat. "Judith, it's no use. We are in way over our heads here. The truth is Mr. Waters; something weird _is_ going on here. Actually, weird doesn't even cover it." The innkeeper waved his hand in the air. "Do you hear that?"

Sam suddenly noticed the subtle drumming sound that seemed to come from within the walls. "Yeah, what's up with that?"

"We're not sure, but it happened the night of the deaths, too."

Sam moved around the cellar, attempting to find the source of the drumming. He stopped in front of a large whiskey barrel. "Kendall, is this barrel empty?"

"Yeah, we cleaned that one out about a month ago. Come to think of it, that was one of the best batches of scotch I ever drank. Dean and I finished off the last bottle this evening."

"Do you have an axe down here?" Sam asked, as he looked around the cavernous room.

"What? Why?"

"An axe, Kendall, I need to open this barrel."

The older man frowned. "Uhh, I think there's one in the supply room down that hall. I'll get it."

Sam watched the innkeeper leave to retrieve the axe and turned to face Judith.

"I need to know what's wrong with Dean, Judith. I'm not going to give up until I find out, so you may as well tell me what you know." Sam could barely keep the anger from his voice, but he didn't want to scare the woman any more than she already was.

"I told you, I don't know." She shook her head.

The drumming started to grow louder and the woman panicked, whimpering. Sam reached for her arm to try to calm her and she pulled away, backing towards the door.

"Judith, I can help you if you level with me."

"No, he's here again. There will be more deaths!" The woman ran from the room, leaving Sam waiting for Kendall and the axe. At her words, Sam felt his stomach clench with fear that the next victim could be Dean. He wanted to get back to him. _Come on Kendall, where's that damned axe? What the hell is going on here?_

The drumming grew louder. Kendall came bounding into the room and shoved the axe into Sam's hand. He backed away from Sam and the barrel, looking nearly as scared as his wife. Sam didn't have time to question the man. He swung the axe down hard on the oak barrel, splitting the top. It took several more strikes before the barrel fell apart and the drumming ceased. Breathing hard, Sam dropped the axe on the concrete floor and peered inside the mangled wood container. He looked away as the stench overtook him and he nearly gagged. Inside lay human remains, perfectly preserved viscera and a nearly intact skeleton. Some of the skin was even still attached to the bones. Sam thought he would be sick as his stomach roiled from the heinous discovery.

"God, Kendall, did you know about this?" Sam's voice was thick with emotion as he grabbed the innkeeper and pulled him to the opening of what was left of the barrel, forcing him to look at the human remains floating in the last remnants of whiskey. "You've been drinking this! You served this to – to your guests." _To my brother, you son of a bitch!_

Kendall gagged and jerked away from Sam's grasp in time to vomit the contents of his stomach on the floor nearby. The young hunter was furious. He had no doubt now that it could be a vengeful spirit at work. Now he just needed to figure out how it was manifesting. And how it was affecting Dean. Sam's thoughts were interrupted and his heart stopped as a gut wrenching scream pierced the quiet of the castle. It came from upstairs. Judith was screaming uncontrollably. _Dean!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sam bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time. His heart was in his throat as Judith's screams suddenly stopped, leaving an eerie silence hanging in the air. Breathing hard as he ran into the lobby, the grisly scene that awaited Sam stopped him in his tracks. He had seen a lot of horrible things in his young life, but he couldn't quite believe the absolute carnage that lay before him now. There, on the hardwood floor, in a large, expanding pool of blood, lay Judith's clothes, and what Sam could only guess were the woman's skin and internal organs. Missing completely, however, were her bones.

Gagging at the sight, Sam turned away and attempted to regain his composure. He looked around the deserted lobby, but saw no evidence of an intruder, no bloody footprints. He looked up at the staircase towards Dean's room and he thought he saw some movement along the banister that rimmed the second floor landing. Fear sliced through Sam at the thought that whoever did this to Judith was now heading towards his brother.

Circumventing the large pool of blood, Sam sprinted up the stairs to Dean's room. He stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw his brother in the hallway. Leaning heavily against the door, Dean was breathing hard, his eyes attempting to focus; he showed no sign that he recognized his younger brother. But what scared Sam the most was the blood. Dean's arms and torso were covered in blood, his face smeared with the red substance. _Oh, god, Dean!_

Sam's momentary shock was broken when he heard Dean moan, and saw him falter as he tried to stay upright. Sam was at his side instantly, supporting him by wrapping strong arms around his sibling's shoulders.

"My god, Dean! What happened? Where's the blood coming from? Where are you hurt?" Sam scanned his brother for injuries, checking beneath the blood-soaked t-shirt for a source.

"S-Sammy? Wha-what happened?" Dean's voice was weak; his hazel green eyes beseeched his brother's frightened brown eyes. Sam's heart was breaking as he witnessed the uncharacteristically docile older Winchester looking as lost and frightened as a child.

"Come on Dean, let's get you inside the room. I need to find out where the blood is coming from." Sam's voice trembled as he maneuvered them through the door. The room felt cold. That wasn't a good sign. The angry spirit was either nearby, or had been there very recently. He quickened their pace as he continued to support Dean, who sagged against him. Sam hooked one arm under Dean's knees and gently lifted his brother's limp body onto the bed.

…….

Kendall entered the lobby cautiously, clutching the tattered journal tightly against his chest; afraid of what he might find this time. The metallic smell of blood was overpowering, and for the second time that night he vomited violently, retching through dry heaves as his stomach clenched again and again. When he had finished, he stood up and moved further into the room. He was terrified. He knew the kind of power and magic that had been unleashed in the castle; that _he _had unknowingly unleashed when he'd opened the kegs in the cellar. _Whatever happens here, this is my fault. Please God, help me._

The innkeeper had to remind himself to breathe as he neared the source of the blood. His heart beat faster as he saw the edge of the pool of dark blood, flotsam of pink foam encircling something at the center of the liquid. As he neared the scene, he realized what he was seeing_. Judith! No!_ He had never seen anything so horrific in his life. His legs gave out beneath him and he dropped into the coppery liquid, his legs, hands and face covered in his wife's blood. The journal fell away, landing nearby on the dry floor underneath the bar.

Kendall was oblivious to the apparition that hovered just above them. But in spite of the rage and grief that warred within him, he could hear the deep, resonating voice inside his head:

_I warned you that the umThakati will seek revenge. I could not stop him this time. Your wife gave the boy the antigen that you refused to take. He will be able to fight the angry spirit once he is strong enough. You must help him. I've been sent here to stop this. Your wife is gone. The umThakati has her bones. This makes him even more powerful against all who reside here. There is only one way to stop him. Take the journal to the brothers._

……..

Sam was relieved when he couldn't find a source for the blood on his brother's body. Of course, relieved was a relative term. He was glad the blood wasn't his brother's, but still very concerned about the murder and Dean's unresponsive condition, nonetheless. Sam had managed to wash the stains from Dean's face and arms while the blood had started to dry and crust on Dean's t-shirt. Sam laughed wryly to himself as he gently tugged the shirt up over his sibling's head. _Well, bro' looks like I'm going to be dressing you again._

Sam had just tossed the bloodstained Metallica t-shirt into the trash when a loud wailing pierced the silence and set his nerves further on edge. _What the hell?_ Sam rose from the edge of the bed, listening for the sound again, trying to determine the source. Another wail; it sounded like it came from downstairs. _Is that Kendall? Oh my god, Kendall._ _He must have found Judith_. Sam hung his head as he recalled the sight of Mrs. Conroy's remains. _Where were her bones? The other victims had bled out, but their bones remained. Why take Judith's bones? How?_

The younger Winchester knew he had to resume the investigation and he had to return to the lobby to gather information. He didn't want to leave Dean alone again, but he had to discover a way to rid the angry spirit, if that was what they were actually dealing with, before someone else died. He pulled the blanket up around Dean's shoulders and frowned. His brother looked as white as a ghost and it unnerved Sam.

"Hey bro, you better start perking up, or I'm gonna start calling you Casper," Sam spoke softly as his eyes watered and a tear threatened to spill. "I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm gonna figure this out, so just hang in there. Right now, I'm gonna go find Kendall and see what he can tell me."

Sam reluctantly left his brother and made his way down to the lobby, to find Kendall on his hands and knees in his wife's blood, which had now taken on a sickly sweet smell as it began to congeal. Sam shut his eyes against the sight. He could literally feel Kendall's pain, and it hit him full force as he watched the grief-stricken man.

"Mr. Conroy? Kendall?" Sam called softly, not wanting to startle the man.

He received no response. The innkeeper continued to stare at his wife's remains and wailed mournfully again. Sam watched sympathetically for a moment and then reached inside the pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. He scanned his phone book and pressed a speed dial key.

After what seemed like forever, but was only three rings, a familiar voice answered and Sam sighed in relief.

"Bobby, this is Sam. I need your help."


	9. Chapter 9

_Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life is a bit hectic right now, but I will try to post again soon_.

Chapter 9

Dean sensed a presence near him, but he struggled to open his eyes; his exhaustion so complete that his eyes refused to stay open. He was cold, in spite of the cocoon of heavy blankets surrounding him. He smiled slightly at a brief memory of Sam tucking the blankets around him, and he wondered if Sam was nearby. His throat felt dry, and his attempt to speak came out in a weak rasp.

"Sam? Is that you?"

_Your brother is not here_.

Fear lanced through Dean as the voice resonated in his head. It was the same voice he had heard earlier, before Judith's screams pierced the silence of the castle. He forced his eyes open, expecting to see an angry spirit, but he was seemingly alone in the room.

_You are the one who will rid us of the evil here. You have taken the muti. You now have the ability to fight the tagati. But you must hurry, before more spirits join him._

If Dean hadn't been so accustomed to strange, paranormal activity, he would have thought he was going insane. He was hearing voices, apparently disembodied voices; ordering him to fight some evil thing. _Yep, the men in the white coats should be coming for me anytime now. Why isn't Sammy here? _Dean sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows; he looked around the room, attempting to locate the source of the voices. He found nothing, but decided to try to communicate, just in case.

"Hey Casper, where's my brother?" He called out, feeling slightly foolish when his own voice hung in the air and he received no reply. He gingerly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He shivered against the cool air as it grazed his bare chest; and realized that he was clad only in a pair of well-worn sweatpants. Swaying slightly, he brought his hand up to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to stop the slight dizziness he felt with each movement of his head.

_Do not be concerned with your brother. He is fine. He is downstairs with the innkeeper. We don't have much time now. The angry spirit has grown stronger. You must stop it or everyone here is in mortal danger, including your brother._

"What the fuck? Who are you? Why don't you show yourself?" Dean's voice had grown stronger and it was laced with anger and frustration at the implied threat against his brother. There was no reply to his questions.

"Look, I'd love to help you out, really I would, but if you hadn't noticed, I can barely sit up or focus. So, whatever was in that magic potion I took, doesn't seem to be working for me. Besides that, I don't have a clue what you're talking about. Even if I was physically able to waste this so called evil, I don't see any how-to guide lying around here."

More silence.

"Come on, you're being all cryptic now. I need you to spell this out. What do you want me to do?"

…….

Sam helped Kendall to stand, the older man's shoulders shaking as his wife's blood dripped from his hands and down his legs. Kendall was clearly in shock, and Sam led him over and eased him into a nearby armchair. Looking around the large room, the young hunter located a linen closet on the side of the staircase. He opened it and pulled out a blanket to cover the trembling innkeeper. Sam took a deep breath and grimaced at the large puddle of blood and remains on the floor. Directing his attention back to the older man, he kneeled in front of Kendall, who was staring into the distance, wearing a tortured expression. Sam hated to pressure the grief-stricken man, but he urgently needed answers. He grabbed Kendall by the shoulders and looked directly into the man's eyes.

"Mr. Conroy? Kendall? Can you hear me?"

He received no response.

"Kendall, I need your help. What's happening here? Do you know what's causing these deaths?" Sam was getting frustrated. He had to find out how that tainted alcohol was affecting Dean, and why the deaths were happening, and how to stop it. Bobby was on his way. But it would be a few hours before he arrived. Sam wasn't sure they had a few hours. He could feel the presence of dark energy hanging in the air. There was definitely a spirit, possibly more than one in the castle. He could sense it even without the EMF meter.

Kendal blinked and softly uttered a single word. "Book."

"What?"

"Th-there's a journal; I found it downstairs. It will explain everything."

"Is it still downstairs?"

Kendall shook his head. "N-no it's . . ." The man frowned. "I had it with me."

Sam stood quickly and looked around the area. He didn't see a book, just a lot of blood covering most of the floor.

"I don't see a book, Kendall. You sure you had it with you?"

"I'm sure. I must have dropped it when – oh, god, Judith." The innkeeper buried his head in his hands and began weeping. Sam grimaced.

As badly as he felt for the man, Sam didn't have time for this. He was about to begin a search for the book when a loud noise erupted from upstairs. His first thought was of Dean and he bolted up the stairs and opened the door to his brother's room.

"Dean!"

The room was empty.


	10. Chapter 10

_I apologize for the long delay (once again) but I'm nearing finals for spring quarter. After that, I'll have free time to devote to this story! As always, your reviews encourage and inspire me._

Chapter 10

"Dean?" Sam continued to call his brother's name as he quickly checked all the adjoining rooms along the long hallway, his stomach clenching tighter with each dead-end. There was no sign of Dean. Breathing hard from a mixture of adrenaline and fear for his brother, Sam could now see his own breath as he exhaled in the frigid air. He realized he was not alone in the castle's dark wing, and he hadn't brought a weapon in his haste to get to his older sibling._ Shit! This is sooo not good. There's definitely a presence nearby, and it's not friendly._

On high alert, Sam attempted to pinpoint the source of the haunting. Remembering he had the EMF meter in his pocket, he fished it out and flipped it on. The high-pitched squeal confirmed what he already knew. He turned in a circle, hoping to get a more accurate reading. Something brushed up against him from behind, and Sam felt it literally chill him to his bones. He turned quickly; only to find the hallway empty, save for his own shadow, eerily illuminated by some small sconces lining the corridor walls. He exhaled sharply and a chill ran down his spine. The blood vessels in his head felt like they were constricting as a vise-like headache hit him instantly. He winced against the sudden onslaught and grabbed his head as images flashed in his mind:

_Blood. It was splattered against the walls, pooling on the floor. A journal. Dean! Dean was in the middle of the room, holding the journal; blood and bruises covered his bare torso. He was reading something from the journal. It wasn't Latin, but he was directing the words towards some kind of creature. It kept coming at Dean, even as his brother read the words and backed away. The creature attacked. The journal landed with a splash in a pool of blood._

"God, no!!" Sam continued to hold his hands to his head, attempting to lessen the painful pounding against his temples as the vision took its toll. The horrible images elicited near panic in the youngest Winchester as fear lanced through him. _Dean! Where are you?_ Turning once again towards his brother's room, he felt another icy touch on his shoulder, but this time it held him in place against the wall; a deep voice filled his head.

_Listen to me. You must leave this place now. Take the innkeeper and leave. Your brother is going to destroy the monster. He is the only one who can now._

Sam stared incredulously at the empty hallway. There was no one there. But something was holding him in place. Still reeling from his vision and his emotions on edge, the young hunter answered the disembodied voice angrily.

"I'm not leaving here without my brother. Where is he?"

_He is being prepared for his fight. He will rid this place of the tagati._

Sam didn't understand, and his anger grew with each cryptic answer. He struggled to free himself from the grip, but only succeeded in adding more pain to his lingering headache.

"What's a tagati?" He growled at the voice. "What do you mean he's being prepared? What the hell are you doing to him?"

_None of that is important right now. Do as I told you and there will be no more corporeal deaths._

Sam was wide-eyed as he recalled what had happened earlier. "You killed Judith, didn't you?"

_It was necessary. She intentionally gave the muti to the boy. She was supposed to be the one to take it. She refused to give him the second dose because he had reacted so badly. It angered the gods. I was ordered to punish her. She had made a deal with the sangoma. She said she would take the pills and rid the castle of the evil ones if we saved her husband from the alcohol poisoning. She lied. So your brother is now the one who will kill the monsters. He did not take well to the muti, however, because he drank the cursed alcohol first. However, had he not taken the muti, he would have died like the others. I fear he may not be strong enough to fulfill this task in time._

Sam recalled Judith bringing the "painkiller" to Dean. He had thought his brother was sick only from the alcohol, but it was the pills. _Fuck!_

"What is muti?" Sam spat the last word out like it was poison, his fear for Dean rising the more he learned.

_It is very powerful. That's all you need to know._

At this answer, Sam was livid, and he struggled harder to get away from the force holding him against the wall.

"You son of a bitch! Let me go!"

_You will be released, but you will not be allowed near your brother until he has completed his mission. I have told you to take the innkeeper and leave. Now, do not defy me or you will all suffer the same fate as the woman._

Sam felt the cold air recede and the force against him lighten. He gingerly moved away from the wall, breathing hard. "I'm not leaving here without Dean," he whispered defiantly.

--------------

Bobby entered the large bed and breakfast through a hefty and ornately crafted wooden door. It was dark inside; the only light was from the full moon that shone through the large windows. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he could just make out a figure sitting in the lobby; it was a man, slightly older than himself. The man made no attempt to acknowledge his presence. Bobby called out tenuously.

"Hello?"

The man didn't move. He was staring at the floor. Bobby followed his gaze and saw the gruesome scene covering the area. When Sam had called, he had told him there was a murder, but this – this was enough to make Bobby physically ill. And he was a man who had seen a lot of horrible things.

"My god, what have you Winchesters gotten yourselves into this time?"

---------------

Sam was heading out of his room with his laptop tucked under his arm and a flashlight in his hand when he heard the distinct whine of the front lobby door as it creaked open. He swallowed hard and carefully made his way to the landing that overlooked the large room. He saw Kendall still sitting mutely among Judith's remains, rocking slowly in his chair. Sam couldn't help but feel the man's anguish. He'd been there himself. He would never be able to erase that image of Jessica on the ceiling as she was so brutally taken from him. Shaking himself from the memory, he looked around the dark lobby. He didn't see anyone else, but he was pretty sure Kendall hadn't moved from his vigil. He felt a glimmer of hope that maybe Dean had managed to get away from whoever had him. Sam slowly descended the staircase, watching carefully for any movement in the room. Once again, his own shadow kept him company. _At least, I'm not hearing voices now._

"Sam?"

Startled at the sound of a human voice, the youngest Winchester panned the room with the flashlight, attempting to find the source. Finding the room empty, save for Kendall, he pointed it down the side of the banister, near the closet beside the stairwell. Sam gasped as the flashlight's beam landed on a familiar, albeit somewhat annoyed pair of eyes squinting back at him.

"Sam! It's me."

"Bobby? Man you scared the crap outta me. You have no idea how glad I am to see you, though." Sighing with relief, Sam hurried down the remainder of the stairs and filled the gap between the two, switching the light on near the closet. Bobby's face held a concerned, but shell-shocked look as he faced Sam.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here? It looks like a damn massacre."

"I was hoping you could tell me. I don't know what we're dealing with, but we have to get out of the castle now, or more of the same is going to happen. Then, we have to get to Dean."

"Whoa, there. Where is Dean?"

"I'll explain lat-" Sam stopped in mid-sentence as both he and Bobby felt the cold air descend around them. They looked at each other with wide, fearful eyes.

"We gotta move – now!" Sam yelled and rushed over to grab Kendall by the shoulders, jerking him out of the chair and towards the large door which Bobby was already straining to open.

Sam turned towards the entity and yelled. "We're leaving now! Let us out!"

The door gave away and Bobby, Sam and a reluctant Kendall spilled out into the garden entryway. Just as Sam released the grieving man, Kendall sprang back into the house, the door quickly closing behind him.

"Kendall!"

The only reply was the man's agonizing screams, and Sam could only surmise that the innkeeper had met the same brutal fate as his wife.


	11. Chapter 11

_Okay, finals are done so I have time to write again! _

Chapter 11

With great effort, Dean opened his eyes. He felt weak, and the constant pain in his head refused to leave; instead it intensified as light assaulted him, forcing his green eyes to wince against the onslaught. It was cold, and he felt his body shiver against the hard surface where he lay. A rank, musty smell permeated the air around him. He turned his head and attempted to bring his hand up to shield his eyes, but his limbs felt heavy and he didn't seem to have the strength to raise his arm. He began to hear the voices again ― two, distinct voices in his head.

"_He is awake."_

"_Good, we haven't much time left."_

"_If only that woman had done what she promised she'd do, we wouldn't be here like this."_

"_He may be a better choice after all."_

"_He's weak."_

"_Yes, but he has faced this sort of evil before. He's fearless. He can do this."_

"_You have given him both doses of the muti. It isn't working."_

"_I have made more."_

"_How?"_

"_I have used the remains of the woman. Her death now has purpose. I performed the purification ritual on her bones. It will not be as strong as the other muti, but it will serve to strengthen the boy for battle. If we administer it ourselves, we can increase the outcome."_

"_That is forbidden."_

"_No. It is forbidden for __**us **__to fight the umthakati. It is not forbidden to lend our strength to our chosen warrior."_

Dean frowned as he listened to the voices, his confusion and concern growing as they spoke of a battle._ Where am I? Where's Sam? _As soon as he formed the questions in his mind, he heard a voice answer him.

"_I told you, you needn't be concerned for your brother. He is fine, as long as he stays away and allows you to fulfill your task."_

"Task?" _What the fuck?_ Dean's confusion turned to anger. He wanted answers, but knew he was in no position to demand anything. His voice was weak, even to his own ears, but still he attempted to summon his bravado and face this situation like a Winchester. He managed to bring his arm up enough to block the light slightly.

"Will you get that damned light out of my eyes so I can see who you are?"

"_We_ **are **_the light."_

_-------------_

Sam didn't have time to worry about Kendall's fate. He motioned for Bobby to follow him and the pair quickly made their way through the garden and out to the parking area where the Impala waited. Sam opened the passenger side door and sat down, quickly opening his laptop and booting it up. While he waited for a wireless source, he looked up at Bobby, his eyes imploring the older man to give him some hope.

"Bobby, please tell me you know something about the Zulu. If I can't get a wi-fi connection out here, I'll have to go find one. I can't leave Dean here. I won't leave him."

The hunter looked at Sam and then shook his head apologetically, his eyes cast downwards. "Well kiddo, I don't know much, just what little I've read or heard through the grapevine."

"Anything Bobby," Sam said as he frowned at his laptop. "Have you ever heard of a ta – _oh, shit, what did they call it?_ A tagati?"

"Tagati? If I recall, it's either a spell or some kind of evil spirit."

"Aren't they all?" Sam let out a short mirthless laugh and leaned his head back against the top of the Impala's bench seat. He was feeling defeated by his lack of information and his fear of what could be happening to his brother. "I need to know how to kill it, damn it! They said they were preparing Dean to fight it and destroy it."

"Who said?" Bobby looked at Sam quizzically as he realized he hadn't heard all the details yet. The younger man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and remember every detail of his encounter with the strange entity. He couldn't risk leaving anything out, because Bobby could very well know how to take the spirit out, given the right information. Sam looked up at the older man again and cleared his throat.

"Uh, it was the voice, you know, that evil spirit that chased us out of the castle."

Bobby frowned and looked back at the castle. "So, just where _is_ Dean?'

"I don't know. They took him. They're probably somewhere in the castle. He wasn't in any shape to be going anywhere, Bobby. This is so fucked up," Sam voice was choked with emotion as the memory of the evening's events hit him full force. He was scared and angry as he recounted the details for his friend.

"First, Dean drinks some cursed whiskey, the jerk! He thought by drinking it he could get to the bottom of this little murder mystery. Then, Judith gives him something― something called muti. Only at the time I thought it was Tylenol or Advil or something. That's what she said it was. Dean got really sick after that. I can't believe I didn't stop him." Sam's unshed tears were threatening to spill as he looked up at Bobby. The older man winced inwardly at the pain he saw in the young hunter's eyes.

"Look, Sam. Since when can you stop Dean Winchester from doing anything? Once that brother of yours sets his mind to something ― he's just like your dad, stubborn as a mule," Bobby squeezed Sam's shoulder. "But let's not take the guilt trip. We've got to figure this out right now. Tell me again, what did the woman give Dean?"

"It's called muti, whatever the hell that is. It can't be good, not the way he reacted. The uh, spirit told me Dean got sick because he drank the tainted alcohol first. He said he would have died without the muti. Is any of this ringing a bell with you, Bobby?" Sam turned his attention back to the laptop, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt to find a wireless signal.

"I know it's a form of witchcraft, Sam; pretty powerful stuff, actually. It's still practiced in South Africa. They call the Zulu sorcerers umthakati, that must be who has Dean."

"Wait ― wait, I remember that, I'm not sure why. I had a vision earlier. I think that's who, or what, Dean has to fight." Sam slammed his laptop shut. "God! I'm not getting any wireless out here. How are we supposed to stop this?"

Bobby rubbed his forehead and frowned. "I know I've heard about this before, Sam. I just ― I can't remember details."

Sam suddenly looked up at Bobby, his eyes alight. He exited the Impala, his long legs taking him back towards the castle. He talked over his shoulder as Bobby attempted to keep up.

"I _do_ remember something. In my vision Dean was holding a journal. Kendall mentioned a journal. If we find it, we may be able to stop the spell and get Dean out of there."

"That's great, Sam. But how are we supposed to get back _in_ there?"

-----

The air around Dean felt electric. The lights around him, what he could only describe as energy, had splintered into hundreds of tendrils that were moving around him, creating small electrical charges with each point of contact they made with Dean's bare torso. _Okay, this is seriously freakin' me out, here. What's up with the electroshock therapy? _The young hunter couldn't suppress a small cry as the charges began to intensify and become more painful. Welts began to form as the tendrils lashed at him.

"_Do not be concerned. We are administering the muti. You should begin to feel stronger."_

"Don't be concerned? This fuckin' hurts!"

"_It is necessary."_

"Oh come on! Why don't you guys just go shock the hell out of whatever it is you want me to fight? I thought I was supposed to be the good guy here; you know, the hero? News flash: good guy is in freakin' pain!"

"_Perhaps it is too much."_

"_No, he has to receive all of the muti at full force."_

"_But what good will he be to us, if it kills him?"_

"Yeah! What _he _said!" Dean winced as the shocks assaulted him. He was all too familiar with the damage that electricity could inflict on the human body. That made it all the more frightening for him. He could feel his heartbeat begin to skip, and then race as the shocks took their toll on his system. Blackness slowly encroached on his peripheral vision and he no longer felt or heard anything. The tendrils of bright light faded to black as Dean's body stilled beneath their frenzied dance.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Sam!" Bobby grabbed the youngest Winchester by the upper arm. "Hold on. You can't just go barging back in there! You saw what happened to Kendall."

Sam stopped, shrugging out of the hunter's grip. He backed away and turned with outstretched arms, looking at the older hunter incredulously. "So, what do you suggest, Bobby? Just leave Dean alone in there?"

"Hell no, kid. But let's have some kind of a plan to stay alive once we do get in there. We can't help Dean if we're the next victims. Let's at least get some weapons."

Sam looked contrite for a second and nodded. "Sorry, Bobby, it's just that . . . "

"Yeah, I know. I'm worried as hell about Dean myself. But we can't get sloppy now."

Sam started back towards the car. "So, what weapons are we going to use? We don't even know what these things are."

Bobby stopped and removed his ball cap to wipe his forehead with his forearm. He nodded. "I have an idea about that. I do remember a hunter that your dad and I worked with in Mississippi. He told us about a job that involved African witchcraft. Now, I don't know if it was the same thing as this umthakati thing, but in his case, electricity was the weapon of choice. It didn't destroy the spirit, but it kept it at bay so he could finish his hunt."

"So, we grab the tasers?"

Yeah, and let's crank 'em up. We can't take any chances."

Sam frowned as he unlocked the Impala's trunk and handed a taser to Bobby. An odd déjà vu feeling passed through him at Bobby's words. He hadn't used a taser since the brother's encounter with the raw head, and he didn't even want to think about how badly that had turned out. He stuffed his handgun into the back of the waistband of his jeans, and handed Bobby the shotgun full of rock salt. The older hunter opened his jacket to reveal a flask of holy water, as well. Sam took a deep breath and gave his friend a quick nod as he closed the trunk.

"So, you think that journal is somewhere in the room where the woman was killed?"

"Yeah, Kendall said he had it when he got to his wife. So that means it has to be in the lobby somewhere. In my vision, Dean was reading from it, I – I think he may be in the same room where Judith was mutilated, the blood – God! Bobby we have to get in there now. I don't think there's much time."

----------

Dean lay prone and unconscious on the cold cement floor. He was pale, save for the dark circles rimming his eyes and the red welts and dark bruises on his torso where he had been violated by the ethereal sangomas. The two bright amorphous lights hovered above him.

"_He is not responding."_

"_Give it time. We may have given him too large a dose."_

"_We don't have time. It's nearing dawn."_

"_This boy is the only one with the ability to stop it. He took the only muti that will work against this umthakati. Once he awakens, he will be ready."_

Dean's subconscious registered voices from what sounded to be a long distance away. He'd heard them before, but was confused. _Where's Sam? Why isn't Sam here?_

"_He is concerned about his brother."_

"_Perhaps we should bring the brother to him, so he will focus on his task."_

_---------_

Sam and Bobby approached the large front door. They moved forward purposefully as one and Sam pulled on the heavy wrought iron latch. Surprisingly, it opened without any effort. In fact, Sam thought, it seemed to open of its own accord. He and Bobby exchanged concerned expressions, both of them tensing suspiciously with their ease of entrance.

The overpowering sweet smell of congealed blood still hung in the heavy air, nearly taking their breath away as they cautiously made their way towards the gruesome remains near the lobby bar.

"Sam," Bobby whispered, "where was Kendall standing when you got to him?"

Slightly disoriented, Sam pointed his flashlight around the dark red pattern on the floor. "Um, he was nearest the bar, but he was kneeling beside Judith's remains, in her blood. If he was holding the journal, he must have dropped it around here when he went down." Sam's voice caught and he swallowed back bile as he recalled the scene.

Bobby nodded and trained his light onto the floor around the bar. "It has to be around here somewhere, then."

"Wait! Bobby, I thought I saw something." Sam flashed his light under the short but deep recess at the bottom of the bar. "I see it!" Sam dropped to his hands and knees and fished his hand under the bar, struggling to grasp the book in the confined area. His long fingers could just feel the edge of the book, but his hand was too large to reach in far enough to retrieve it. He groaned in frustration.

"Bobby, I need something to slide in here to move the book. Do you see anything I can use?"

The older hunter looked around quickly, spying an umbrella stand near the closet. The umbrella had a hooked end. He grabbed it and handed it to Sam. "Try this."

After a couple of attempts, and nearly shoving it completely out of reach, Sam successfully slid the journal out. He grabbed it triumphantly and stood up, smiling.

"Now, let's see what we're dealing with here."

As Sam opened the journal, Bobby kept watch and assessed the large room again. He frowned as he realized something.

"Uh, Sam? What do you think happened to Kendall?"

The young man's concentration suddenly broken, he looked up from the journal and over at Bobby with a puzzled, slightly annoyed expression. "What?"

"Look kid, we heard the guy's screams. By all accounts, Kendall's remains should be in here right along with his wife's. But they're not. There's no sign of him at all."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe they dragged him off somewhere. Maybe he's not dead. We can only hope he escaped."

Bobby was about to respond when the temperature in the room began to drop quickly. The two looked at each other, and in unison, brought their tasers up to the ready. The familiar, disembodied voice broke the silence.

"_Those weapons will have no effect. We have little time remaining. You must cooperate now. If you don't, your brother will die. His death will be followed by countless others because we will have failed."_

"Where is my brother?" Sam growled out, ready to lash out at the entity.

"Follow my instructions and I will take you to him. You must convince him to complete the task."

"This task― what do you want Dean to do?" Sam yelled, angry and scared, his breath heavy in the cold air.

"_The only thing you need to know is that your presence is required. Otherwise, we will have to take drastic measures. It is not our prime directive to hurt innocents. But this is an unusual circumstance and your brother is now caught in the middle. At dawn, he must fight or die. You will be the one to influence that outcome."_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"I want to see my brother. Now." Sam spoke low, but threateningly through clenched teeth. Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder, attempting to calm the young hunter, who was tensed and ready to fight.

"_You will follow us."_ Two large, iridescent orbs appeared to dance into Sam's line of sight.

Sam turned to Bobby and frowned. "Gee, I guess this is the part where I ask it if he's a good witch or a bad witch." Sam's voice held no humor as he said it, and he turned back to follow the orbs down the dark hallway; Bobby following protectively, taser in one hand, shotgun in the other.

They entered a darkly lit, dank, cavernous room, which Sam figured was adjacent to the wine cellar. It was, however, devoid of any kegs or barrels. Sam's eyes were drawn to the middle of the room, where he saw Dean struggling unsuccessfully to sit up from his prone position on the concrete floor. Sam was beside his brother in three long strides, dropping by his side to help support him into a sitting position; resting Dean's back against his chest. He gasped as he took in the bruises and burns on his brother's torso. Dean struggled to take in a breath as he shivered against him.

"Dean! What did they do to you?" Sam was choked with emotion to see his brother so weak.

Dean sagged against his brother's chest and spoke in a whisper... "Sam ― Sammy? Is that you? Are you real?"

Bobby stood nearby, concern and anger playing across his features as he watched the two brothers. Sam's expressive eyes looked worriedly into Dean's unfocused gaze as he gently turned his brother's face toward him.

"Yeah Dean, I'm here, you're going to be okay." He said softly as he held his brother's face in one hand, supporting him with the other. Sam looked up at the orbs, which hovered directly above them, his expression turned hard and angry.

"What the fuck did you do to him?"

"_He will be fine. He is gathering his strength even as we speak. Soon he will have the strength of all the witch's victims. He will deliver vengeance for their deaths and the agony of the ancestors."_

Sam looked at Bobby, who shook his head and shrugged almost imperceptively, his right hand adjusting his hold on the taser.

"Look, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but we're taking my brother and we're leaving this place."

"_That is not possible."_

Sam huffed out a mirthless laugh. "Yeah? Just watch us."

"_You will kill him."_

"What?'

"_He has received the muti. If he does not expel it from his body in the manner it was intended, it will kill him, and the umthakati will be free to continue killing and cursing anyone else who drank from the barrels. The muti contains the essence of the victims. Your brother is now their vessel to destroy the witch and his curse they have carried for hundreds of years. They were released by the drunkard innkeeper. At dawn, if your brother does not destroy the witch, the cursed spirits will leave this castle and death will follow wherever they go. The first deaths will be that of your brother and anyone near him."_

Sam looked shell-shocked as he met Bobby's equally incredulous gaze. Neither he nor Bobby had ever experienced Zulu black magic. Even though they'd faced all kinds of rituals and curses, and even possession, this was new. It was unsettling, and Sam felt panic rise in him as he looked back towards the orbs.

"I don't understand. How will my brother fight this thing — this witch?"

"_You will soon be a witness. The umthakati will be here in a matter of minutes. He has been challenged. If he does not arrive by dawn, he will be destroyed, as well. They must fight or die. He will be corporeal, like your brother, so the fight will be among the two vessels as the forces within them battle to the death."_

"My brother is not a vessel! If you think we're going to stand idly by while —"

"_Silence! You are only here because your brother was concerned about you. We had to show him you were unharmed, so he would focus all his energy on his task. Now he knows, but if you do not cooperate, you will be removed. If he is to win this battle, he will need you nearby. Do you want to risk his life with your insolence?"_

A myriad of emotions played across Sam's face at the sangoma's words. Dean sat up and moved away from Sam, appearing to stand strongly on his own. Although, as he looked at his brother, Sam was quite sure Dean was not standing of his own accord. His battered appearance was incongruent with this newly found strength. Sam stood slowly to face him; Bobby moved in close as he did. Dean's green eyes seemed lifeless, as though his soul had been removed.

"Dean?" Sam's anguished voice cut through Bobby's core. The older man placed what he hoped was a comforting hand on the youngest hunter's shoulder.

"_He will not be able to respond now. Not until he has defeated the witch. It will help if you can lend him your strength. We sense you two have a strong bond. We also sense that you have abilities that can help him."_

"How could you possibly know that?

"_We exist on the same plane as those who gave you those abilities. We can recognize it. You must assist your brother when the time comes. You cannot fight the witch yourself, but you can strengthen your brother's efforts."_

Sam frowned and then nodded resolutely. "Yes, okay I want to help."

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and turned him so they were face to face. "Sam, we don't even know what we're dealing with here. Hell, Dean is about to be, or already is possessed by some freak Zulu force. For all we know, you could become possessed right along with him." Sam pulled his arm away, anger replacing his panic and fear.

"It doesn't matter Bobby! Dean needs my help, that's all I need to know. Now, do you have our backs?"

Bobby set his jaw and looked unflinchingly into Sam's eyes. "Always."


	14. Chapter 14

_I guess I should warn you that this and the next couple of chapters may contain some more gross, gory stuff. _

Chapter 14

"_You have the journal; give it to your brother."_

Sam could feel the book concealed inside the pocket in the lining of his jacket. Fear tore through him as he realized that giving Dean the journal would bring his vision to fruition. A battered and bloodied Dean had been holding that book in his vision. He wished that he and Bobby would have had time to read it. He had no clue what it might reveal to them.

Knowing Dean needed it to fight, he handed the book to his brother, who took it from him mechanically and immediately opened the pages and began to read. Sam's brow furrowed and his mouth twisted as he watched Dean. Aside from his battered physical body, the essence of his cocky, wise-cracking big brother was nowhere to be found He hated having to stand by while his brother was being controlled – _no, possessed_. A pang of guilt hit him as he recalled how he had treated Dean when he had been possessed by the demon, Meg. _I hope Dean is still in there, not lost like I was. I physically hurt him, and I didn't even know what my own hands were doing._ He shut his eyes against the painful memory. Dean never gave up on him, no matter how many horrible things he did during the possession. He knew that this time, when he needed him, he would be right beside Dean to help him, too.

"_You must be. But not on this physical plane."_

Sam's face contorted in annoyance and he looked up at the orbs. "What? Are you reading my thoughts?"

"_Of course we are. We have been since you arrived. Now listen to us. We know that you can tap into your telekinetic abilities. You've done it before."_

"But I can't control it! God! If you guys are so freakin' smart, you have to know that these so called powers I have are unpredictable at best. My brother's life can't rest on my ability to conjure them at will."

"_We may be able to assist you. We cannot fight the evil ourselves, nor can you. But we can help you harness some of your energy so that you can direct it to your brother. He will need it. The umthakati is very strong and your brother has not been adequately prepared for this."_

"You think?" Sam was seething. He felt that everything was spiraling out of his control. His fear was paralyzing him. He looked at Dean, who stood zombie-like in the middle of the room, still reading the journal methodically. He took a deep calming breath. "Alright what is it that I can do?"

Bobby touched his arm. "Whoa Sam, hang on a second."

"No, Bobby. If I can help Dean then I'll do whatever it takes. You know damn well he'd do the same for either of us."

"I _do_ know that son. But I also don't want to have to explain to him that I let his little brother sacrifice himself to save him."

"There's not going to be any sacrificing, Bobby. We are going to kick this monster's ass back to hell, or wherever the fuck it came from. And then we are going to take one last look at Holyoke in our rearview mirror."

"Are you sure _you _aren't channeling _Dean_ right now?"

Sam shook his head slightly and his mouth quirked in a small smile.

_Enough of this! If you interfere with the brothers, Mr. Singer, you will be removed. It will not be pleasant. Sam, hold your hands out, palms up. We haven't much time._

Sam swallowed hard and looked at Bobby, who was clearly biting back an angry retort. The young hunter did as the sangoma told him, and hesitantly held out his hands, feeling at once vulnerable and hopeful that he could help Dean. As he did so, he told the obviously nervous hunter beside him to relax.

"I feel like they're being honest, Bobby. I don't sense malice from them."

"You can _sense_ them?"

"Uh – yeah, strangely; I'm - I feel like . . . I feel really good all of the sudden. I feel strong and I feel the adrenaline like I did the first time I moved something. Only this feels like I'm completely in control."

The orbs were silent, but they hovered near Sam's upturned palms. Bobby watched carefully, ready to intervene, in spite of the warning he had received. He frowned as he saw the orbs begin to expand slightly and Sam took a deep breath in response.

"So, uh, Sam? Do you know how this is going to help Dean?" the older hunter asked nervously. He'd never encountered anything quite like this before.

"Not really, but I think if I need my power it will be there."

"_It will be, but you must concentrate, even with our help, it is not easy. The umthakati nears. He is going to try to destroy your brother along with the energy of the victims who are housed in his body. Your brother has read the journal. He knows how to fight it, but we fear he may not have the strength, since he was nearly a victim himself."_

Sam could feel himself getting stronger. "How do I lend my strength to Dean?"

"You direct it; just as you did that night when you moved the large cabinet with your mind. We are energy – you are energy, and so is your brother. We simply redirect ours so that he can do what he needs to do."

Sam grimaced slightly, still not sure how it would work.

"_Perhaps a test so you can see that it will work. You must believe you can do this, or we will all lose. The book in your brother's hand; concentrate on it and bring it to you with your mind. Bring the book to your own palm."_

Sam nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating on the journal in Dean's hands. A strange buzzing began to build in his head. He'd felt it once before, for only a brief moment, but he recognized it. He had described it to Dean: _I saw you die and it just came out of me like a punch. Like a freak adrenaline thing._

Before Sam could even react further, the journal flew from Dean's hands into his own. Breathing heavily from both the effort and the swiftness of the action, Sam's wide dark eyes looked at Bobby with amazement. The older man mirrored Sam's emotion in his own eyes.

"God, Bobby, it worked! Take the journal. Tell me what Dean's supposed to do." He handed the book to the older man and turned his attention back towards Dean.

"_Now Sam, you use the same method to direct energy to your brother as he needs it. Do you understand how it works, now?"_

Sam nodded, still shocked by his ability to harness and feel real energy. It was amazing, and for the first time that day, he felt that maybe they had a chance to destroy the witch.

The heavy wooden door creaked open. Sam watched as his brother turned towards the sound. Dean's eyes were still vacant, but Sam could actually see the active energy that surrounded his brother's body. He was comforted by its strength, but terrified for his brother, and what it might do to him. Dean moved forward and Sam turned towards the door. The sight that greeted them was as frightening as it was surreal.

The witch stood before them. Sam nearly gagged at the sight. It had clearly been human at some point, but it now appeared as a skeleton with muscle, fresh blood seeping from the exposed flesh, dripping onto the floor. The small amount of skin that remained, hung like tattered, bloody rags from the bones The most unsettling part, though, was the monster's face, permanently fixed in a look of horror. It held no other emotion. In spite of the mutilation, Sam recognized the haunted eyes; Kendall's eyes. The monster had kept just enough of Kendall intact to use as his vessel. That was how it killed, taking a victim's body and using it to kill the next. He had skinned Kendall alive, and now he was advancing on Dean.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sam watched the creature advance on his brother. He realized at that moment how hard it would be for both himself and Bobby to stay on the sidelines, not to fight the thing. _The fugly thing, as Dean would call it._ He could sense Bobby beside him, breathing hard, barely restrained; like a horse chomping on a bit. He couldn't worry about the older hunter, though. All of his energy had to be focused on Dean. He wasn't going to lose his brother to this monster. The orbs told them they would be killed if they tried to fight; at least in the conventional sense. His demon-issued "super powers" might just end up saving them, he thought. _How ironic would that be? The demon may actually help me save Dean. It doesn't matter how I do it, whatever it takes._

The umthakati towered over Dean, but his brother didn't flinch. He showed no emotion whatsoever, his eyes dull. Sam could see the energy field around his brother begin to pulsate. It appeared to be expanding. Dean lifted his arm and the energy followed. He aimed at the witch and thrust his arm towards its chest. A burst of energy hit the creature directly in the sternum. Sam was relieved to see that it had served to stop the advance, but the relief was short-lived when he realized that it didn't seem to do much damage. If anything, it just angered the beast.

The beast appeared to grow with the blast, as if it had absorbed the energy from Dean. Sam was stunned by the sight. _Shit! It's like an energy vampire! _In an instant, the creature had grabbed Dean by the throat and was draining him. Sam could see the field around his brother's body shrink rapidly. The younger hunter felt the familiar buzzing in his head, as he realized his brother was fading fast. An uncontrollable burst of energy left him and propelled towards Dean. Receiving renewed strength from his brother, Dean was able to break the hold around his neck and push the creature away. For an instant, Sam thought he saw recognition in his brother's eyes; Dean was being careful not to "feed" the umthakati any of the precious energy Sam had given him. He was amazed at the small effort it took for Dean to channel it, and the restraint in which he used it.

Bobby was trying at once to read the journal and watch the battle unfold. He had to know what Dean was up against, and what it was going to take to bring the thing down. But when the beast had Dean by the throat, he nearly went for his taser. Only Sam's quick reaction had kept him from entering the fray. Once Dean had pushed the thing away, Bobby brought his focus back to the journal, and as he read a passage, he realized in horror what was happening.

"Sam, those spirits that have possessed Dean, they're going to fight that thing until all the energy has been used up. All of Dean's energy, his life force, will be gone right along with it. Once they have transferred their essence into the creature it will act like a spiritual virus, like matter and anti-matter trying to co-exist. The creature will be destroyed, but the host —" Bobby's voice trailed off, not wanting to utter the words. Dean would have to die if this thing was going to be destroyed.

Sam stared at Bobby, horrified by the news. "He can't! I'm not going to let that happen, Bobby. That's why I'm here. I have to find a way to keep Dean alive. My brother is not going to sacrifice his soul with the others." _Not as long as I can give him my strength. He is not going to die_.

"But Sam, Dean isn't even aware of what's happening. He isn't going to be able to control it. How is he even going to know it's you helping him?"

"I think he knows, man. For a second, he was with me. He held back a little."

"He can't hold back, Sam. The thing will kill him."

They watched as the creature advanced again. Dean directed another blast of energy at its chest. This time, the beast staggered from the blow and emitted a loud wail. Rasping, loudly, it moved toward Dean again, landing a hard blow to the side of the young man's head, lifting Dean off his feet and sending him backwards, his head connecting with the concrete floor. Sam lurched forward, but Bobby grabbed his arm before he could intercede.

"He needs your help, son. Stay focused."

Sam grimaced as he watched his brother attempt to recover from the blow. He wanted to go to him, to shield him from the beast. _Shield him_. The buzzing in his head came again and he felt the energy leave him like a spasm. Just as the beast was preparing to strike Dean again, it was halted, unable to move any closer towards his dazed brother. It let out another loud cry. Sam thought it was having a tantrum, the way its arms pounded at the air.

Bobby watched worriedly as Sam's effort to block the beast was also draining the younger Winchester. The boy was breathing hard, and he was holding his head as if in pain. _Shit! I could lose both of these boys if I can't find something to stop this. _A thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Dean!" _God I hope he can hear me_. Bobby watched as the older Winchester briefly appeared to acknowledge his voice. "Dean, I know this says that you need to use all the energy from those souls you're hosting. You have to find a way to hold onto your own though, and take what Sam is giving you. It's a different energy. You have to expel the souls. They are the key to destroying the creature."

Sam looked at Bobby, clearly distraught. "How will he do that? God, Bobby, He's weakening every time he attacks the thing."

Dean managed to get to his feet as the "shield" kept the witch at bay. He swayed slightly as he stood up; but the energy field renewed itself around him, holding him upright. Sam saw resolve in his brother's eyes. He was coming back!

"Dean! Listen to me, you keep hitting that thing with all you got, and I'll take care of the rest. Just concentrate on that fugly thing, you hear me?"

Sam thought he saw Dean nod, almost imperceptively. His brother moved forward, clearly ready to continue the battle. The orbs above Sam expanded again, and he realized they were ready for the fight as well.

Dean closed eyes and stood stock still. He appeared to be harnessing a large portion of the spirits inside him, drawing and gathering, ready to strike at the umthakati. Sam held his breath as his brother brought up his arms, conducting the energy, releasing it into the beast with a full-on blast. The creature screeched and convulsed as the currents ran through its entire body. Small explosions continued to travel along the skeletal body until it simply vaporized before their eyes. The creature was gone. The room was suddenly still and quiet. Sam heard his brother gasp and watched as Dean's knees buckled. He felt like he was moving under water, trying unsuccessfully to reach Dean before he hit the floor. Again, his brother's head connected with the concrete, and this time, he lay unmoving.

"Dean! No!"

Bobby flinched at the pain in Sam's voice as the young man dropped near his brother. Sam felt along Dean's neck for a pulse and let out a sob. He looked up into Bobby's eyes. The older hunter could see nothing but sorrow in Sam's eyes as the tears flowed freely down his face.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"_We should have anticipated this."_

Shocked, Sam looked up from where he was cradling Dean's head in his lap. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he lashed out at the orbs.

"What?! You mean you knew that I didn't have the strength to help my brother? And you led us to believe this would work?'

"_You do have the strength. However, when your brother became aware that it was creating a drain on you, he took matters into his own hands and used all of the energy at once to keep you from harming yourself. He didn't know how to hold enough back, and there wasn't enough time for us to intercede or warn you."_

At the orb's explanation, Sam was assailed by intense guilt and anger._ Dammit, Dean!_ He looked down at his brother's lifeless body and suddenly his head snapped back up towards the orbs. "Wait! You said I _do_ have the strength. Is he ― does that mean ―can I still help him?"

It was Bobby's turn to look incredulous at Sam's question_. Jesus, Sam, don't you do this to yourself. _But the hunter was surprised when the orbs quickly allayed his concern.

"_It is possible. He is very weak, but he still has some life force left. It is not evident by human measure, but something remains of your brother. You will need to do this quickly though, as it will dissipate within minutes._

Sam's eyes went wide; hope clear in his face and voice. "Anything, I'll do anything. Just tell me what to do."

"_As before, stand and hold out your palms."_

Sam gently, and somewhat reluctantly, lifted Dean's limp body from his lap and laid him on the floor. He stood, taking a deep breath, and did as the orbs directed. They hovered above his upturned palms and begin to pulse and grow, nearly fusing together into one large glowing mass.

Bobby stood nearby, wide eyed as he watched the process. He was scared for both of the boys, but hopeful this would bring Dean back. He wouldn't allow himself any other emotion at this point. Sam had found a way to bring Dean back from certain death before, so Bobby wasn't going to question it this time. _Come on kiddo. I know you can do this._

"_You have learned how to channel your powers. Use the energy like you did during the battle. As long as Dean still retains even a small amount, he will be a receptacle for your_

_gift. We can lend you energy, but you must channel it."_

Sam nodded slightly and closed his eyes. Once again he heard and felt the buzzing in his head. It was much louder this time. He wasn't sure if it was because his emotions ran so high, or the orbs were feeding him more, but he felt very strong suddenly.

"_It will be faster and more effective if you make direct contact with your brother. Touch him. It is safe to do so."_

Sam took another deep breath and kneeled beside Dean. The surface of his own skin crackled with energy as he gingerly brought his hand to rest on his brother's chest. A thin, electric blue aura surrounded the two of them and Sam could feel the transfer of energy into Dean. He watched his brother for a sign of life, but he hadn't moved. His disappointment momentarily broke the connection.

"_You must concentrate. It will take much more to bring him back. Do not worry. Have faith."_

_Have faith_. He heard Dean's voice in his head; telling Layla how Sam felt:_ Apparently, my brother here has belief enough for the both of us. _And he did. With renewed resolve, Sam sent his energy to Dean. The blue aura reappeared. He vaguely heard Bobby encouraging him.

"That's it Sam! I've got your back, just stay with it."

Time seemed to stand still. It could have been minutes, or hours, that he had kneeled there with his hand on Dean's chest, basking in the blue light, feeling the prickly tingling and cracking of the pure energy exchange. It felt good, and he wasn't going to let go until he saw Dean's hazel green eyes open and heard him complain about him invading his personal space. That is, Sam hadn't planned on letting go. But the room tilted strangely and he suddenly felt weak. He could hear Bobby's concerned voice from what seemed like a long distance, calling his name. He swayed, yet never broke contact with Dean. But the aura faded and the buzzing stopped. He tried to stay upright, to no avail. He was spent, his strength gone. In the deepest recesses of his mind he felt sheer panic. _No! Dean!_ Sam fell into a heap beside his brother, unmoving, his hand still connected to Dean like a lifeline.

"Sam!" Bobby was beside the boys instantly, feeling Sam's neck for a pulse. Relieved when he found a steady, strong beat, he turned his attention to Dean. Tears formed in Bobby's eyes when he found a strong pulse on the older brother as well. He let out a shuddering breath and laid his hand on Sam's head.

"My god, Sam, you did it. You brought Dean back to us."


	17. Chapter 17

_This is the final chapter. I've left it open for a possible sequel. Thanks for all the reviews and kind words._

Chapter 17

Bobby sat silently near the unconscious brothers, trying to comprehend what had just transpired. He looked around the large room and realized that only the three of them remained. The orbs were gone. A low moan brought his attention fully back to the boys.

"Sam?" Bobby touched Sam's shoulder as the youngest began to stir. "Sam, are you with me?"

Sam groaned and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked several times, as if attempting to focus. Bobby didn't think he'd ever seen Sam so pale and drawn. He brought his hand up to the young man's face, patting it gently.

"Sam? Talk to me, son."

"Bobby?" Suddenly Sam's eyes went wide and he attempted to raise his head. "Dean! Where's Dean?"

"It's okay. Your brother's right here." Bobby put his hand on Sam's, which still lay on Dean's chest. Sam looked over at his brother; his fear evident as he took in the motionless figure beside him.

"It didn't work!" Sam's voice broke as he brought his eyes back to Bobby. The older hunter smiled, trying to reassure Sam.

"It worked, kiddo. Dean's alive, he's breathing, thanks to you."

Sam looked only slightly relieved as his eyes focused back on his brother. He propped himself up on his elbows and frowned. "What's wrong with him? He- he's not moving. Has he been awake at all, Bobby?"

"No, not yet. But he's been through a lot. Give it time. You've been through a lot yourself. You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just tired that's all." _Exhausted real_ly. Sam didn't take his eyes off his brother. "Bobby, what if that poison is still in his body? We have no way of treating it. We can't very well take him to the hospital; too many questions, and any of the answers would sound crazy."

"Let's give him some time. You've both been out for about three hours. Sam, your brother _died_. His body needs time to renew itself."

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath as Bobby's words hit him. _Dean had died_. His brother had cheated death, again. "God, Bobby, this was just too damn close this time. He drank that damned cursed scotch, let himself be a guinea pig. It's like he has a death wish or something. When he's healed, we're going to have a long talk about his self-destructive behavior."

"I don't think Dean does these things because he's reckless. He does them to protect you."

Sam sat up straight, angry eyes directed at the older man. "Protect me? How in the hell is getting himself killed protecting me? Doesn't he know that it would kill_ me_ if anything happened to him?"

"He does."

Sam and Bobby both looked startled as a small, scratchy voice replied to Sam's question. They looked towards the source, their relief palpable as they saw Dean struggling to open his eyes.

"Dean!" Sam's was overcome with emotion, unable to say anything more. He moved closer to his brother, hovering as he watched Dean come around. His moist eyes met Bobby's as he shared a look of joy with the hunter.

"Sam? You okay?" Dean coughed as he tried to speak. Sam frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

"What? I'm fine Dean."

"You look like shit." Dean had closed his eyes again and cleared his throat.

Sam laughed and shook his head again. "Thanks bro' but you should really see yourself in a mirror."

"That handsome, huh?" Dean attempted a crooked smile, but even that seemed to take an enormous effort for him.

Bobby held up a hand and interjected. "Okay you two, you're both a couple of beauties. Now, I would really like to get out of this creepy castle. Do you think you're gonna be able to make it out to the Impala?"

Sam looked at Dean with concern. "He's too weak, Bobby. He can't even lift his head yet."

The older hunter nodded, realizing he was going to have to carry at least one, possibly both Winchesters to the car.

"Listen Sam, we need to get out of here. It's nearly noon. The cops or a visitor could come in here and find all that carnage. I don't want to have to explain this. Especially since I _can't_ explain it."

Sam nodded and began to stand up with Bobby's help. He swayed and nearly went down, dizzy from the sudden movement. Bobby tightened his grip until Sam was standing strong again.

"I'm okay now, Bobby. Get Dean and let's get out of here."

Carefully hoisting Dean over his shoulder, Bobby followed Sam as the trio exited through the large door, taking them through the main wine cellar. To their surprise, not one barrel remained. The room was as empty as the one they had just exited.

"Sam, this _is _the room where they had the cursed whiskey isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm sure of it. How could it just have disappeared? Bobby, there were hundreds of barrels in here."

"I don't know, and we're not sticking around to investigate. But if I had to guess, I'd say the sangoma must have destroyed them along with the Zulu witch."

Sam nodded numbly and opened the large door to the stairway leading up to the lobby. Dean groaned as they made their way up the rickety, narrow staircase, Bobby struggling to balance his weight, jarring his burden with each step upward. "Hang on, Dean. Will be out of here soon."

Sam held the door open at the top of the stairs and they spilled out into the lobby, which was now well lit with the midday sun streaming through the large windows, revealing a pristine room. Sam turned and looked at Bobby, his own shocked expression mirrored on the hunter's face.

"Bobby! There's no sign that a murder ever took place here. No blood, nothing."

"Jeezus, Sam, let's just get the hell out of here."

------------

Stopping at a rundown motel on the outskirts of Holyoke, Bobby left the boys to get a room, while Sam waited in the backseat of the Impala with his brother. Dean had been in and out of consciousness as they made their escape from the bed and breakfast. Now, he weakly sat up, with Sam's support.

Dean cleared his throat and spoke, not looking at his brother. "It's true you know."

Puzzled, Sam smirked slightly. "What's true, Dean?"

"I do know how it would effect you if ― if I, well if I didn't make it. I know that because I know how I would feel if anything happened to you. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother. This sudden caring and sharing moment caught him by surprise.

"Okay, where is my brother and what have you done with him?"

Dean shrugged one shoulder slightly and smiled crookedly. "Look Sam, this is the only apology you're going to get from me. I understand you were pissed. I get it. But I'm not going to stop protecting you. You know that, right?"

Sam let out a breath. He did know, and it was both comforting and frightening. He nodded. "Yeah, Dean. I do know that. I know that because _I'_m not going to stop protecting you, either. So it looks like we're stuck with each other."

Dean closed his eyes and smiled. "I'm proud of you, Sammy. You took those freaky ass abilities of yours and you made them work for you. You won a major battle today. The demon isn't in control, you are."

Sam looked at Dean, surprised. He hadn't realized it, but his brother was right. His thoughts had been solely on saving Dean and making sure he was going to be okay. For the first time since he had discovered his "gifts" he felt hope.

"Huh. This job turned out to be important after all. Even if it left more questions than answers."

"Well geek boy, that's what research is for." Dean smiled. "Better brush up on your Zulu so we don't lose sleep over this one."

---------

Inside the Castle Freeman Inn, Dr. Lohiri Roshi stood in the lobby and smiled. He had won the battle today. _Sam Winchester is a strong ally. I may call upon him again someday to help. With his magic, he can help me defeat the curse on my family. Perhaps I can return the favor one day. _A bright light engulfed the man, dissolving into an orb and slowly fading from view.


End file.
